Blame the Economy
by T Rocket
Summary: A US/Can story where you learn more than you ever wanted to know about the economy and how exactly the recession affected Alfred F. Jones in 2010.


They really hadn't meant to do it there. But when Matthew had come to swing by, he only thought it polite to stop into the White House as well and wish the American president luck within the global recession. Those plans however, had been derailed rather swiftly when Alfred had slung an arm around Matthew's waist and murmured low in his ear, "I missed you, Matt."

Midway into a shiver that threatened to overtake him, Matthew had only begun to turn in toward the other before Alfred met him halfway with a deep and urgent kiss.

Business should had been business, but Alfred had never been one to take 'no' for an answer. And as he'd alluded, it really _had_ been a while. Matthew moaned into his brother's mouth as he stumbled back, pressed against the wall of the hallway.

"A-Alfred, come on-" Matthew put up less of a fight than he should have, not because he was feebly-willed, but because despite his looming common sense, Matthew really did want it too. "Someone will see us..."

Which was around the time Alfred pulled the Northern nation into a side room and pushed Matthew back against table, hands rushing at the other's clothes. Bubbled up with his own tensions, Matthew not only followed suite, but worked faster than Alfred. He tugged off his own shirt before moving to work on divesting Alfred's and gasped as he felt the other's hot breath and smooth lips against his neck.

"You know," Matthew groaned as he finished the final button and pulled Alfred's shirt down from his broad shoulders, "-you really need to open borders with me again. This is getting really frustrating."

Alfred bit down on Matthew's shoulder and earned a rather erotic little sound from his brother. "-I'm trying okay? I've just got bigger matters to attend to right now, okay?"

"Bigger matters?" Voice low, Matthew reached between them, hand cupping Alfred's cock through his slacks and squeezed, "Right. I bet."

As of his past two terms, Alfred had been busy running around the Middle East, like a kid on a scavenger hunt. How that he was back home for the most part, making his way into the third troubled term, he'd been hip-deep in a recession. If one coupled those factors together, the result as a rather ignored and pent-up Matthew. Sick of being forgotten and ignored, he planned to resolve that, or at least try for the time being...

Alfred growled and pressed a thigh between Matthew's, eyes dark. Matthew's breath hitched and he tugged Alfred closer, who eagerly reciprocated the attention by grinding up against Matthew, who squirmed eagerly against him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. The last thing they needed were the President's _children_ walking in on them.

"Please-" Matthew gasped as Alfred pulled at Matthew's pants, dragging down the zipper and unbuttoning them. "-Alfred," he keened, "Please don't tease me." He hooked a leg with his brother, body beginning to tremble with the mounting anticipation. "I know I said this had to be bedroom only, but I want it _now_, Alfred." he begged with shoulders shaking, arms wrapped around Alfred's shoulders as he soaked in the heat his brother seemed to naturally radiate. (Alfred always felt so blissfully warm to Matthew, but that probably had something to do with their geography, Matthew noted.)

"Please, Alfred. I want it."

Matthew's words, smooth as his favorite syrup and just as fueling, lit Alfred up, who sharply tugged Matthew's pants and briefs down around his knees, forcing the other to untangle their bodies as Alfred undressed him. (Everything done halfway as usual. Did Alfred ever finish anything he started, outside of meals and sex?)

"Fuck. Matt, do you have any idea how hot you look like this?"

Matthew let Alfred turn him around, and bent himself over the table, spreading his legs as far as his rumpled slacks would allow him. Bowed over, with his forehead touched the cool wood of the table, Matthew allowed himself a smug grin, albeit humbly small.

"I think you've told me once or twice. -but I forgot?"

Alfred swatted Matthew's ass in retaliation and Matthew moaned, whereas he sworn he'd had a laugh stocked.

"You're seriously a brat when you want to be, Matt."

Matthew rolled his eyes and took the chiding laying down (relatively speaking), but rose up on his toes fast and loosed a rather loud and broken moan when Alfred worked two lube-slicked fingers in him, straight to the second knuckle.

"A-Alfred-!" he hissed, muffling his words when he closed his hands over his mouth. "-where did you hide tha-" Matthew lost his thoughts quickly when Alfred hooked his long fingers inside Matthew, rubbing the other's prostate until Matthew practically sobbed behind his hands.

"Did you know Gerald Ford was an Eagle Scout?" Even when Matthew couldn't see his brother, it was impossibly to miss Alfred's dripping satisfaction when he spoke.

Matthew knocked his forehead against the table, swearing in French, "I don't want to think about your Presidents right now!"

"Alright, fine. Geez, it was a Boy Scout joke, yanno? _Be prepared_, and all that." Alfred laughed, grinning. "And," he added, "-small bottle, big pockets. That's where it was. But alright, just let me..." his words faded off to relative silence as he moved to open his own slacks one-handed, never once ceasing the slow, deliberately teasing thrusts of his fingers.

Matthew whined, shuddering in pleasure as he rocked back against his brother's ministrations. "Oh, god, Alfred...oh, you show-off." he swore again and wished aloud that the other would just _hurry up_ already.

Only Alfred didn't. In fact, he stopped.

Completely.

"Hnn..." Horny was one thing to deal with, but worry was another entirely. If Alfred didn't speak up or _do something_, Matthew was certain he'd go soft over it. He gave another low whine and pressed back against the stilled fingers within him to urge Alfred on. Maybe Alfred was just being a douche about it. Maybe he just wanted to hear Matthew really beg.

In the silence between them (occasionally punctuated by Matthew's own harsh breathing), Matthew could hear his brother swallow. His skin heated and sharply contrasted by the cooled air around them, Matthew shivered, thinking of Alfred's neck and how badly he wanted to taste the other's skin, to kiss and bite and mark him up until Alfred's skin was red and purple against his collar.

(The tension was -killing- him)

Matthew could feel him tense, the sensation making him all but cry for more when Alfred fingers gave a solid twitch inside him. Even if the other had changed his mind (Alfred was a capricious bastard some times), Matthew had no issues being worked off on those beautiful fingers, bucking back against them until he came hard.

But again, nothing. Until, "Uh...fuck."

Matthew did not like the sound of that. "What do you mean?" he asked, his gut twisting with a slowly building concern. "Alfred, what's wrong?" He craned his head back to, at the very least, make sure his brother hadn't died on him and was met with the most pitiable sight he'd ever seen:

Starting from the top, the first thing Matthew took in was that Alfred looked absolutely heartbroken. Trailing, Matthew couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight of Alfred's defined chest and stomach. Some of their best times together came with Matthew riding the other, where he could see -everything- of his brother and touch just as much.

However for Alfred, further down, with pants and underwear jammed around his hips, Alfred's hand curled around his dick which even now remained abysmally soft.

Matthew nearly cried.

No. He wouldn't allow himself to crumble yet. Being the sane one between them, it was Matthew's responsibility to keep. Shit. Together.

"Alfred, what's wrong, are you-" He paused when he realized that actually moving might be tricky. "Fingers out of my ass, Alfred." he added, curt. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

"Oh. Sorry."

Able to straight up properly, Matthew turned and sat atop the table, beckoning Alfred over, who complied with a little hesitance.

"Alfred..." he sighed, combing his fingers through his brother's wheat-colored hair. Matthew reached down to stroke Alfred's cock, nuzzling against the other's cheek, painfully eager to get Alfred in gear. "Come on, you're better than this. You're-" It would be painful to say, but Matthew's options were limited. "-you're the hero, right? Well come on, hero. Fuck me." Alfred groaned and pressed against Matthew, who was ready to dedicate a flawless victory to himself. Only...

"Alfred, you're not hard at all. What's wrong?"

Crossed between embarrassment and shame, Alfred's face lit up a deep red as he glanced aside, shifting on his feet. "Well, it's really cold."

"I'll warm you up then." Matthew insisted firmly, swiftly going to his knees. If Alfred was going to sidetrack his business with a back-room fuck, he was going to fucking finish it.

On his head, even Nantucket flagged some. But with Matthew's hot, wet mouth sucking at his cock, Alfred couldn't help but go a little cross-eyed.

"Well, I mean, Florida..." He nearly choked on his own spit when Matthew gave a committal hum around his mouthful, "There's been this cold snap and-"

Matthew pulled back long enough to pass up a devilish smirk to his brother, trying to play at Alfred's little visual kinks-jerking himself off nice and slow as he returned to blowing Alfred.

"W-well-" Alfred winced, looking everywhere but where he ought to have been. "-with the recession the way it's been...tourism's hardly keeping the state afloat and-"

Matthew came back from Alfred's cock with a quiet, wet 'pop' (still soft) and gave him the most annoyed look he could muster, which in his current condition was rather harsh. "The recession?" Canada had fared through it all better than America, and Matthew usually sympathized so well, but... "This is about the _recession_?"

Alfred nodded.

Well, there was no saving that round.

Frustrated as his own arousal and angry at Alfred's insistence on action through his own goddamn recession, Matthew locked himself down and solidly convinced himself that there -had- to be a better way around this. After all, so long as they did something, the moment wouldn't be completely lost, would it?

Matthew let silence stew between them as he thought. There had to be something.

He swallowed down his sigh and dressed into his figurative leader-pants as he looked up to his brother, tone and gaze serious. "The Ritalin works. Do you think Viagra will?"

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Ten minutes later, looking slightly less presentable than he had before Matthew's appearance, though far more so than after the two of them had disappeared to rut against one another, Alfred opened the door to the Oval Office and peeked in.

From his desk, President Obama looked up from reading a thick set of papers and waved the nation in. Though not as energetic as the day he'd been sworn in, the man still managed a warm smile and a welcome atmosphere. "Something on your mind?"

Hands jammed into his back pockets, Alfred rocked on his heels, avoiding eye contact. "Just wanted to know if I could borrow some money..." he sing-songed the man. "Just a coupla bucks. I mean, it's no big, right?"

Behind the desk, Obama remained unmoved, spare for the raise of a single eyebrow. "Alfred, you know were strapped right now. What are you looking for?"

"Just a coupla bucks." he repeated. "To go down to the corner drug store. Get a soda...maybe a malt."

"A malt. At the drug store."

"Mmhmm." Alfred hummed, fighting the urge to pace. He could do this!

"Alfred," The President sighed, "-you realize drug stores haven't sold things like that in ages now."

"Just a malt or something-" Alfred repeated once more, making it obvious that he really wasn't listening. In his defense, his mind had camped it on more important and horrifying things, like how likely Matthew was to maim him if he didn't put out. "-go and hang out with my friends..."

"Alfred, I hate to say it, but right now, spare for Canada, you really don't have many friends right now."

Alfred snapped back into the conversation at the ringing of his brother's name. He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head, "Well you see, it's sort of about Canada...you know," he chirped, attempting a grin, "I bet Florida could really use another stimulus package around now!"

The President stared back flatly, "Look. Alfred," he sighed heavily, hands folded over the desk, "I'm going to be frank with you, son. If this is about you getting laid," (For a moment, Alfred's eyes lit up with knowledge that the man really did understand him.) "No."

So much for that welcome atmosphere.

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.

.

Elsewhere in Canada, Matthew crossed his fingers and tried the very same.

"Prime Minister Harper-"

While Alfred had been given more of a chance to explain himself, Matthew was not nearly so lucky, and within a few turns, Matthew was forced to spill the proverbial beans.

"Impotent? America?" The Prime Minister bit down any unsavory (not to mention rude) laughter and steepled his fingers against his desk. "This is...what one would call _ironic_..."

Standing opposite of him, Matthew made a small noise of discomfort, though stood tall despite.

"Alright, then." he conceded, pushing back from his desk and rising to his feet. "Feel free to your portion of the budget. Just don't do anything silly."

Awash with relief though still flooded utterly with embarrassment, Matthew nodded and quietly excused himself.

"And now that I'm alone..." The Prime Minister returned to his seat and began to ticker-type a url into his computer's browser. _h-t-t-p-:-/-/-t-w-i-t-t-e-r_...

From there, all over the world, world leaders tweeted that shit. Somewhere, the Queen had it set as her Facebook status. Obama facepalmed. Putin laughed. The Cuban president snorted his coffee. And at the end of the chain Matthew gave up in his frustration and turned Alfred over so fast and fucked him so hard, he had to bring an inflatable cushion to sit on for the next three World Summits.

The End.

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Also, yes, in my headcanon of fail versus the world, Obama has Alfred on Ritalin, or some equivalent. You know it makes sense. YOU KNOW IT. Alfred just...doesn't take it as much as he needs to.


End file.
